


within good comfort

by gabriphales



Series: gomens drabble hell [60]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:02:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24999541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriphales/pseuds/gabriphales
Summary: crowley wakes up feeling rather crummy. aziraphale is there to soothe his woes
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: gomens drabble hell [60]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664713
Kudos: 50





	within good comfort

crowley aches.

it's the sort of ache that insists action, that begs you to stifle it, at whatever price necessary. he can feel it in his bones, his muscles. dull and heavy through every tendon, burning in their own individual way. a different note, a different part of the symphony to fulfill. crowley would much rather there be no music at all.

he shifts on his side, tucking the blanket over his head. now it's his stomach that's boiling. coming in hot waves, surges of nausea that buckle under his tongue, drench his mouth in spit. he reaches down on instinct, gripping the smooth flesh of his stomach, and he can feel himself clenching there. sporadically, against any free will of his own. 

the mattress groans with him as he rolls over. there's a cough, followed by a wretched, soundless gag. _too close,_ he thinks. _angel will worry if i make a mess._

of course, to his own miserable fortune, aziraphale is already worrying - considering he's been standing in the doorway for forty seconds now, and crowley hasn't noticed him yet.

"dearest," he says. "are you alright?"

crowley hears him stepping closer, and his heart races. thick, pounding in his chest, making his whole body yearn to flinch and shake along with it. he tries to say something, a bit of reassurance - _course, angel, i'm fine_ \- but the words come out all wrong. discombobulated, jumbled. slurring in the back of his throat. eventually, he gives up. pressing his face into the pillow, and digging into his palms. rings of white flushing at his knuckles.

it's hurting worse now.

"sweetheart!" aziraphale scrambles over to him, dropping to his knees at the side of the bed. "can you hear me? are you breathing?"

"mmgh - of course i'm breathing. i'm just - 's jus'ta cold, angel. you can go away." he grumbles, feeling all the more terrible for his sore temper. there's no time to apologize, not with aziraphale finding his face beneath the covers, and cupping his cheeks. fiercely pressing kisses along the sweat-damp skin he's been denied. crowley can do little but lay there and take it, relaxing into his comforts. it's nice - nicer than he'd felt before.

"what if i don't want to go away? will you send me off anyways?" aziraphale asks. his voice is like molten velvet, rich and dulcet in sweet tones. crowley reaches out for him, his fingers climbing invisible air, and presses his thumb to that caring mouth. desperate to touch, desperate to be touched. aziraphale grasps his wrist so lightly, so tenderly he just might die, and kisses the edge of his nail. it's a quiet promise - he'll love every part of him, even the sharp, angled bits.

"never," crowley whispers. "i love you, i need - " his head scourges with heat, a mortifying flush. "i need you. please. lay with me?"

and aziraphale smiles, aziraphale adores him so.

"with pleasure, darling." he says, slipping under the quilts, and offering crowley a warm body to curl against. arms around his trembling back, and lips upon his temples, his shoulders, his neck - when he's feeling risky.

crowley falls back asleep in no time.

**Author's Note:**

> let crowley be held and loved 2k20


End file.
